


Of Mind's Untouched

by orphan_account, Slytherette97



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Light Lord Harry Potter, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Poor Harry, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherette97/pseuds/Slytherette97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end to Voldemort's war wasn't exactly a happy one, but neither was it a sad one. Light and Dark magic continue to fight to reclaim their rocky standards in the world, and due to the struggle, many a people are found dead. But curiously, no Dark Lords or Lady's would own up to their work, landing Harry in a difficult spot to figure out what was happening. What was Harry Potter, Light Lord of the British Isles, Vanquisher of Most Vile Voldemort, to do when even he isn't safe in the supposedly secure alley's of Diagon Alley?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crack and Crumble

**Author's Note:**

> Don't really know what to say but I hope everyone enjoys the story.

**Chapter One**   
**Crack and Crumble**

Harry expelled a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his mess of shaggy locks as he stared at the files spread out on his desk, willing them to bring something he hadn't already thought of to light. He didn't know what it was about the cases that seemed to connect to each other – it certainly could be the causes of death, but then again, almost every dark wizard or witch had used the Unforgivable's before, and if the Auror department relied on their uses, nothing would come of it.

There were too many dark wizards and witches that were known for using them to track, and all seemed to have disappeared in the wind. Most likely to some unknown bolthole and safe-house that the Ministry didn't know about. Yet.

The victims were all middle aged to elderly men and women, no similarities or connections between them whatsoever. They weren't a part of the struggle between light and dark magic, and from what he'd discovered whilst doing a background check, they didn't even know each other. There was no reason for their being dead, and in exactly the same condition as the previous victim.

They were just casualties in a bigger cause, as one or two Auror's had already told him. Let them go cold, we need you for bigger and better things than investigating useless leads.

There's no reason to connect the cases at all, Harry conceded, but there was this feeling in his gut that told him not to stray from this line of thought. And his instincts were rarely wrong.

"How do they get away?" He asked no one in particular, scowling darkly at the looped and swirling ink staining the parchment. "They can't have just Disapparated away, or Portkeyed, there's wards around the Alley's nullifying both," he mused. Was there some new way of travel he didn't know about?

Someone knocked on his door – three precise taps of the knuckles that he recognized as Kingsley's, and he looked up just as Kingsley Shacklebolt strode in, dark face lined heavily with the stress of his high office. He truly was one of the greatest Minister's the Wizarding world had had, but the stress of the job was getting to him, and his previously bushy black eyebrows were beginning to turn grey, the only other sign of his premature aging besides the lines.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his seat, face expectant.

"I was told you were in here on your day off. I thought the boys were wrong at first, but then I was also told that you'd been down to the archives for the newest cases. It's called a stress-free day for a reason, Potter," said Kingsley, an exhaustively knowing expression on his face as he seated himself in one of Harry's comfortably squashy chairs. "And you have an abundant lack of those kinds of days. You're always in here, slaving yourself over every case that walks through the department doors. Why can't you just let others handle everything once in a while? I would if I could."

"Well you're the Minister, you get as many complaints as we do cases, and you get just as many days off as well," said Harry wryly. "If I left everything up to the others, we'll be knee deep in shite before you can even blink. Do y'know what they told me to do with these?" He asked, gesturing to the files. "They told me to let them go cold, that they're unnecessary. Do you really want to leave everything up to them when there's so many lead-less cases?"

Kingsley frowned at him. "Well, not with their attitudes towards difficult cases, no," he admitted. "But you can't just pick everything up for them, they're not children running around with scissors, they're Aurors."

"When they start acting like Aurors, I'll go on holiday," said Harry, snorting.

"You've got to get out more, Harry," said Kingsley, thick eyebrows furrowing. "Weasley already has one daughter, and you've yet to even get a date. You're throwing yourself into your work, and if you do that for much longer, you'll have nothing to go home to but drink and work. This isn't what Dumbledore wanted for you when the war ended," he said quietly.

Harry was quiet, instead staring down at the file of one once smiling witch with thick white hair piled high on her head. This wasn't the life he'd wanted for himself either, working day and night with barely any rest in between, but the only women he'd dated had wanted to be with him for the fame he held, for the money in his vaults, the land he owned and the titles he had. He couldn't have what Hermione and Ron had, no matter how hard Ginny tried to make it so. She was as far from his mind as she could possibly get, and he had no qualms with that.

"I can't just stop fighting," he said quietly, ignoring the way Kingsley started in surprise and then stared at him. "I've been fighting for as long as I can remember, and I'm likely to never stop. Any woman that I date – there's nothing. I can't feel anything for them, for anyone since – since I died. The closest I came to actually having a life, was when I was in Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron.

When Ginny was my girlfriend, I thought I'd have at least a bit of what they have. But then everything with the Dumbledore, and the Horcruxes and – and I couldn't do it anymore. It's impossible for me to just stop."

"Perhaps a holiday is the best option you have," said Kingsley in a gentle voice, surprising a stare from Harry's intense green gaze. "You threw yourself straight into Auror work after the war ended, you've had no rest at all. I'm not surprised you're out of whack, Harry. Frankly, I'm surprised you've lasted these past few years, and especially at the rate you've been working. We've had a higher success rate in the solving of our cases ever since you joined us, but that does not mean we need you to burn yourself out. You need relaxation, rest and rejuvenation, as all Aurors do. Why don't you go and visit the Weasleys in St. Mungos? I'm sure they'd be pleasantly surprised to see you, especially that Goddaughter of yours. Regan, is it?"

"Rose," Harry corrected him, a small, but very soft smile lifting up the corners of his lips. "Just a day old, and she already looks like Ron," he murmured, directing Kingsley's gaze to the small collection of framed pictures on his desk.

A small cluster of pictures sat facing the middle of the desk, each telling a different story, but all centered around the same people. Nearly every picture contained himself, Ron and Hermione, and so far there was only one with a newborn Rose in it.

There were more pictures of himself and Teddy than any other, as Teddy almost lived with him full-time now than with his grandmother, Andromeda, and in every one Teddy stood grinning at the camera with the same pair of green eyes and messy black hair as Harry.

It was both a statement, and an affection – Teddy wanted more than anything to have a father, and he found one within Harry, no matter how much Andromeda and Harry discouraged him to think of him as. Andromeda wanted Teddy to remember that Remus and Tonks were his parents, not Harry. And Harry didn't want Andromeda to think that he was in any way replacing Remus or Tonks, even though he knew how much it hurt Teddy when Andromeda told him that Harry was only his Godfather, and therefore not exactly his family.

That's why, whenever Teddy called him Dad, he didn't respond. He merely smiled and gave Teddy's messy black hair a gentle ruffle and went on with his day, either helping his Godson with his homework, or cooking them breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Kingsley smiled at the pictures, intelligent eyes touching on each and every one. The Harry's, Ron's, Hermione's and Teddy's grinned back at him, and almost all of the Teddy's waved back at the both of them.

"Also, Harry, this came from an owl this morning, someone saw a couple of Death Eaters in Diagon Alley. Would you be able to check it out on your way to St. Mungos?" asked Kingsley, handing Harry a plain looking parchment note he pulled from his pocket. "And…"

"Greyback?" Harry interrupted, puzzled. Something in his stomach twinged, the instinct within flaring - something bad was going to happen. "Why are they showing themselves now? Why now, and not two years ago?"

"Not sure, but if it is Greyback, then the others may not be too far behind," said Kingsley, very obviously worn out from stressing over the situation.

"How can you be sure it's not just another prank?" Harry asked skeptically, letting the letter float away from his mind for a moment. This was incredibly big news - Greyback was one of the most wanted Death Eaters still on the run from the war. Not to mention the other two remaining Death Eaters, Rabastan Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood . They couldn't afford yet another false alarm.

"How can you be sure it isn't a prank? We won't know until you go and see," Kingsley answered, looking shrewdly at the files spread out over Harry's desk. "You'll take a partner with you -" he sent Harry a quelling look at seeing Harry's mouth open in protest. "I know you don't trust them to protect you like Weasley, but if you hadn't noticed, he's at St. Mungos with his wife and newborn daughter."

"I'll be fine by myself," Harry reassured Kingsley, knowing that he could handle a couple of Death Eaters if it came down to a fight. He wasn't the Light Lord of the British Isles for nothing, after all. "And if something does happen, I'll send you a Patronus to come and rescue me."

Kingsley sighed heavily, knowing fully well when he should give up in getting Harry to have a partner with him. It was practically impossible to square up to Harry's stubborn-headedness, and not even Ronald Weasley - notorious for the Weasley temper, could match up to Harry. Especially when it came to dealing with Death Eaters. And since Ron is at St. Mungos with his wife, Hermione, Kingsley couldn't have him battle out the safety precautions with the obstinate raven-haired man.

_"Harry!"_

Harry jumped in his seat, startled from the the voice that suddenly yelled his name, and turn his head to the fireplace to see Ron's illuminated green head sticking out and staring at him, the pristine white floor and walls of St. Mungos behind him. He looked truly wiped out - there were bags under the bags around his tired blue eyes, and his hair looked almost Snape-like with sweat and grime. Being a father must be really tough.

"Blimey, mate, warn a guy next time," Harry muttered, clutching a hand over his racing heart as he swiveled in his chair to face him.

"Yeah, sorry, mate, didn't mean to scare you there," said Ron, grinning sheepishly through the Floo.

"What can I do for you, Ron?" Harry asked, brushing a hand through his wild hair. "How's being a father treating you?" He asked, grinning lopsidedly.

"You should bloody know, Teddy calls you Dad more than enough," Ron grumbled in reply, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, when are you going to visit your Goddaughter? She hasn't met you yet, and you're her Godfather -" Ron started, but then he seemed to finally realize that he'd interrupted Harry's meeting with Minster Shacklebolt. He flushed a dull red to the tips of his ears, which peaked out from between his stringy red hair. "Oh, er, hullo, Minster Shacklebolt, I didn't see you there."

"It's fine, Mr Weasley, our conversation was just ending," said Kingsley, getting up from his seat with a small smirk at the still flushing red-head, and with a final look at Harry that spoke of endless conversations in the future, he left the office, closing the door behind him and leaving Ron and Harry alone.

"Sorry about that," Ron muttered. "Didn't think you were that busy, it's supposed to be your day off and all."

"Nah, it's okay, Ron. Like he said, the conversation was just ending," Harry reassured him with a small smile. "How're Hermione and Rose doing? Heard from George that the birth went smoothly," he said, his smile growing.

Ron perked up, his embarrassment readily forgotten. "Oh, mate, you should see her, she's so…" Ron started to say, but then tears began to cloud his eyes and he seemed grow increasingly emotional. Like all Weasleys were known for doing, especially Molly Weasley. "She's so beautiful. And she's got my eyes, too, did you see in the picture? They're Weasley eyes!" He bragged.

"That's wonderful, Ron, I'm happy for you guys," said Harry, forcing his smile a little wider to hide the envy and jealousy he felt for his best mate having something so pure and amazing. But then he remembered his Godson, and how like a father he felt for him, and the smile became a little more real.

"Thanks, mate. Well, are you coming to visit us now, or not?" Ron asked, peering expectantly at him through the Floo.

"Yeah, there's just one errand I've got to run before I head to St. Mungos to visit you lot," Harry told Ron as he got up from his chair, grabbing his wand and tucking it into the holster hidden in his sleeve. He shuffled about with the files, closing them so that their contents were hidden, and stacking them in a pile on his work tray. Ron stared at them dumbly.

"Personal or work?" Ron asked shrewdly.

"What?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Is it work related or personal?" Ron rephrased, eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's work," Harry reluctantly admitted, rounding his desk. "Kingsley got a letter saying there'd been a couple of Death Eaters sighted in Diagon Alley, so he wants me to go check it out," he explained, walking to stand in front of the Floo connection. "I'm just checking to see if they're actually there, and if not, then I'll be at St. Mungos in less than ten minutes."

"Who's going with you?" Ron questioned.

"No one is going with me. I can handle a couple of Death Eaters, Ron, I'm not sixteen anymore," said Harry, exasperated, but feeling a little guilty that Ron was worried about him when he already had too much to worry about with Rose and Hermione.

"Are you sure? I can have mum come watch Hermione and Rose, and I can come help you," Ron offered uncertainly, brows furrowing.

"Yes, Ron, I'm sure," Harry sighed, while rolling his eyes. "The sooner I get this over and done with, the sooner I can come visit you."

"If that's what you want to do. But if anything bad happens to you today, next time you get a note or a mission like this, you will bring backup with you, deal?" Ron sighed in defeat.

"Deal," Harry agreed, smiling triumphantly.

"Well, I have to go, mate. But I'll see you later, yeah?"

Harry nodded his goodbye, waiting patiently as Ron's tired face disappeared from the fireplace. Sighing, he cut off the Floo connection for the day, before finally Disapparating from his generously spaced office, to the landing port in Diagon Alley. The only trafficking spot in Diagon Alley that was purely used for Apparating, allowed by the Ministry, had been plotted between the mouth of Knockturn Alley, and the middle of Diagon. It wasn't an ideal place to have it, but it appealed neutrality between Dark wizards and Light wizards, and it kept the war between the two from spilling into the strips of Alleys.

No one dared to fight in Diagon, not after the last time Harry had been here and dealt with the small struggle. It had been the first time since Voldemort's death that Death Eaters had tried to make a comeback, and it was, after Harry had taken them down, the last one.

So, as Harry silently Apparated into the Alley, his unique and potent magic quickly filling the air with the lovely scent of rain and spices and lightening the hearts of many, he did not expect the shouted spell that came whizzing at his chest. Neither did the people milling happily about the Alley, as they hurriedly broke apart with screams of panic and fear as figures in black cloaks appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. More spells, dark in nature, and very obviously aimed to kill, were shouted from the figures at a fast and confusing pace - all aimed at him. People screamed and darted into shops, children and women protected by the backs of men as they hurried to clear the alley.

Harry immediately fell into a crouch, his hand instinctively raising to conjure a magical barrier that spilled from his fingertips to intercept the curses. The spells sputtered to a stop and flickered out of existence as soon as it touched the barrier, and one of the figures gave a loud, animalistic growl. Anger tightened low in his gut.

Greyback.

"So you actually were stupid enough to come here!" Harry exclaimed, slowly and steadily straightening from his crouch with just a touch of incredulity on his face. He took the opportune lull in spells to slip his wand into his hand, continuing the barrier with barely a break in sweat. "Somehow, I thought you three'd actually have more brains between you to realize that you're not welcome here. You should know by now that Death Eaters are not tolerated here - anywhere, actually! Not since I took Yaxley and Selwyn down a year ago. None of you spineless dogs tried anything after that, did you?"

"Arrogant little piss-ant!" Greyback snarled, pacing a small stretch of ground beside one of the other Death Eaters in an imitation of a caged animal. "I'm not afraid of you. You're just a stupid little baby without a family, hardly worth the shit on our shoes."

"And yet you're threatened by me? A so-called baby?" Harry taunted, smirking at the Werewolf. He stiffened slightly as he saw a pair of small children hiding just to the right of him behind a cart of fireworks in his peripheral vision. He hoped they weren't scared enough to cry, or move, because if they did, Greyback, or the Death Eater that was incredibly close to them, would surely notice. "Why even bother coming here? Why not continue hiding out wherever you were? Coming here while there're Aurors posted at every corner, that was a very big risk for cowards like you," he sneered.

Greyback scoffed, an ugly sound that grated on Harry's ears. "Like you can talk, Potter. Throwing yourself before the Dark Lord to die in the forest? Now that's cowardice," he hissed, and spat another curse at the barrier separating them. It barely reached the barrier before it sputtered out of existence. "Even now you're acting cowardly. A shield, really? Come out and fight like a man, Potter!"

"Reveal yourselves first," Harry snarled, flicking his wand up in the closest Death Eater's direction. "Or I'll have the coroners at St. Mungos identify your bodies in the morgue."

Slowly, as if reluctant to do so, the two mysterious Death Eaters lowered their hoods.

"Rookwood and Lestrange," Harry growled angrily, backing up a few tiny steps to keep all three within his sight. He made sure to keep the startled and frightened children within sight, but not so overly obvious to others that they were there. Greyback would make a chew toy out of them if he knew they were there. "You need those two to protect you, Greyback? Are you that scared to fight me alone that you need these measly little cowards?"

" _Sectumsempra_!" Greyback snarled, flicking his wand viciously at Harry.

 _"Protego! Ligabis_!" Harry countered, expertly diving and rolling out of the way as two more deadly curses came at him from the other Death Eaters. " _Stupefy!_ " He spat, and barely stopped to watch as Rookwood fell to the ground with a jarring crash. He dashed to the cart housing the crying children, and pushed them into the open doorway closeby. The door slammed shut with a resounding clang just as the end of the young girl's scarf disappeared around the corner, and Harry barely had time to duck out of the way before Greyback was sending a vicious curse his way.

Harry flicked his wand at Greyback, wordlessly trading the deadly curse for a binding one, and darted across the alley nimbly, red Auror cloak flying out behind him in a whip-like motion that belied the curse that had just missed his backside. Greyback growled, enraged, as the ropes that slithered from the tip of Harry's wand rushed to ensnare him, wrapping eagerly around his wrists and ankles and then climbing up to his waist, clutching at his torso tightly in a mock embrace. His wand fell from his limp hand, and he gave an unintelligible shriek as a sliver of rope gagged him.

Rabastan Lestrange gave an odd sort of hiss and hurriedly swished his wand at Rookwood's chest. " _Ennervate!_ " He snarled, face washed white with stress and pain. He was terribly overwhelmed by Harry's power - he hadn't forgotten the Dark Lord's immense strength at all, and it was far too similar in potency to ignore, especially in the way that the resonance throbbed in his skull like a call to arms. He gave a shudder and glared down at Rookwood.

Greyback was uselessly bound and gagged on the floor, his only other back-up other than Rookwood - who was only just waking.

" _Furnunculus_ ," Rookwood spat weakly, reluctantly climbing to his uneasy feet beside Lestrange. _"Diffindo! Bombarda!_ "

 _"Protego_!" Harry hissed, and darted to the side when the crate behind him exploded in a wreckage of debris. He bit back a hiss of pain when a shower of it hit his back, and he grimaced at the feeling of the shards digging a little bit deeper when he threw himself against a wall - back to brick. " _Expelliarmus!_ " He blindly cast.

Fortunately, the spell hit Rookwood's hand with a snake-like hiss, forcing his wand to fall to the ground. Harry quickly spat another Stupefy, grinning mercilessly when it sent Rookwood tumbling to the floor uselessly again.

"Is that the best you can do, boy?!" Greyback suddenly snarled, and Harry turned to where Greyback should have been laying, trussed up and gagged. He was standing, though a bit crouched like an animal about to spring, and his wand was back in his hand.

Suddenly, a shadow came running towards him from the side, arm pointed towards the remaining two Death Eaters with what Harry could see was a short little wand, which was emitting a glow that looked like an _Expelliarmus_ in the beginning stage. The man was coming to help him.

"Shite," Harry hissed under his breath, noticing just a second too late that Greyback saw the man too.

Harry pushed himself off the wall in a dead sprint towards the elderly wizard, a slight pain in his back only slowing him minimally, to shield him. But time wasn't with him, as both Greyback and Lestrange poised their wands at the man just as Harry arrived within arms reach of him.

" _CRUCIO!_ " Lestrange and Greyback shouted as one, one voice a deranged snarl and the other a victorious chant, as Harry threw himself before the old man - who gasped in wide-eyed horror at the sight of the Unforgivables speeding their way towards him.

" _BOMBARDA MAXIMA_!" Harry roared, casting blindly over his shoulder at the two mad Death Eaters.

" _P - Protego Maxi-m - ea!_ " Harry heard the man stutter out behind him, and gaped in horror at the mangled spell, but his attention was soon taken away altogether as the spells clashed together in a tangled knot of spiraling blue and hit him square in the back.

Harry was thrown forcefully away from the battle, and away from the gaping old man as the spells rebounded, head slamming into a brick wall with a resounding crack that echoed ominously throughout the alley.

Harry was in such an excruciating amount of pain, he didn't even hear the garbled and muffled voices calling his name desperately from all sides of the alley. His head was too jumbled by the painful bashing with the brick wall - or was it the backlash? His vision was splotched with black and white spots, which were slowly building to a thick layer to blot out everything from his sight, and then, there was nothing but blessed darkness, silence and stillness, and the pain slowly began to drift away from him as he accepted the blissful reprieve.


	2. Bound and Trapped

Chapter Two Bound and Trapped

Sounds were heavily muffled and voices were garbled when his consciousness decided to slam back into him - and with a vicious vengeance in doing so, and he slowly opened his gluey eyes - only to be blinded by a bitterly bright light that seemed to try and shove steak knives into his retinas.

Groaning, Harry quickly shut his eyes against the painful light and heaved a heavy sigh. Noise was slowly beginning to filter and separate now, and by the sounds of crisp shoes flying about nearby, and a selection of professionally clipped and impersonal voices talking at frantic speeds - mostly about a magical backlash of sorts, it was clear that he was in a Hospital. Or, St. Mungos, really.

Why was he here again?

After a moment of just hovering in the land between wake and sleep, his Auror instincts finally began to kick in, and he realized that he was lying chest down on an uncomfortably sterile Hospital cot - his face tilted to the side so he could breathe easily. He made to move, shuffling his deadened arms around until his hands were gripping the sides of the cot, when suddenly, teeth clenching pain shot up his spine and rocketed into his head, and his arms collapsed under him out of shock.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek out of habit, trying to keep back his need to shout at the pain, and pressed his face into the stiff mattress under him. His back continued throbbing uncomfortably in several places, mostly stinging and biting around his left shoulder, but slowly, it began to fade into just an annoying reminder of the wounds that sat there - but he wasn't stupid enough to aggravate them. If it was from debris and spells - which he knew the feeling of intimately enough, then he wouldn't be allowed to sit up and move around until he'd been cleaned and fixed up.

But that just begs the questions of how long he'd been here, and why the Healers hadn't already fixed him up. His magic as well - which was notorious for its powerful healing at times like this. Why wasn't he already well enough to get up and move around?

Growling with frustration, Harry turned his head to the left and peered around at his surroundings, which were extremely fuzzy and out of focus due to his missing glasses. It surprised him somewhat, to find a familiar red-haired woman lying on the cot beside his, obviously asleep by the looks of her fiery hair spilling around everywhere on the stark white linen.

"Gin-ny?" Harry rasped, forgetting in his shocked haze for just a moment that the woman before him had been practically stalking him before his hospitalization. It was something he wouldn't be forgetting when he finally got his mind back into sorts.

The blurry form of Ginny shifted around sleepily on her bed, slowly but surely rousing from sleep, and before Harry could pretend that he was sleeping or was at the very least talking in his sleep, her brown eyes fluttered open and fixed on his very awake, very in pain form. She shot up and gasped.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, voice teetering between tearful and happy as she reached out a pale, freckled hand to grab at his. Harry felt only slightly guilty when tears eventually did slip down her stress flushed cheeks. "We thought you were dead when they brought you in, you looked so damaged and bloody! They kept saying that you were suffering and that you were lucky to have even survived the backlash," she said tremulously, sweeping a gentle hand through his messy, knotted locks almost lovingly. "Do you remember what happened? The Aurors won't tell us a damn thing - they won't even tell Ron! And only because he's on bloody paternal leave."

Harry fumbled around mentally for some semblance of a memory, some little trigger of a thought to give him a clue, and after only a small pause, he was able to say, “There was a . . . letter saying that there'd been a sighting of a couple of Death Eaters in Diagon Alley," he murmured wonderingly, reluctantly allowing his weary body to relax into the bed as he continued rummaging around in his head. "I remember going to check it out to see if it was actually real, and then an attack. Is everyone else here? Are they alright?” He asked her, gently, but firmly pulling his hand out of hers as he struggled to regain some strength.

His blurry eyes missed the look of hurt that flashed on Ginny's tearful face, but it was soon wiped away - as were her tears. She cleared her throat and righted herself, picking up a cup of filled with what looked like water from the cupboard in between their beds. "You must be thirsty," she muttered, making a show of grabbing a bendy straw from the cupboard and lowering it into the drink. She held it before Harry's face, and smiled tenderly when Harry timidly sipped at it. "Can you remember anything else at all?" She asked softly.

Harry swallowed the small sip noisily, grimacing at the gritty sterile taste to it. He cleared his throat. "There were three Death Eaters," he mumbled. "Rabastan Lestrange, Rookwood, and Greyback."

“Greyback!” Ginny exclaimed in horror, her red tinted, freckled face turning as white as the sheet on their beds.

“Yeah," he said drily, shutting his eyes tight as a headache began to build in his temples from the brightness. "I'm not sure what happened after my head hit the wall, but if you haven't already begun panicking, then the Ministry wouldn't have put out the alarm to watch out for three dangerous Death Eaters. That must mean they've already been captured and taken to the Ministry holding cells to await trial,” he mumbled, and then looked around curiously as something occurred to him. “Where's Ron at, anyhow?”

“He had to stay with Hermione to stop her from running here. She's still on the recommended bed-rest, you know,” Ginny replied, sighing as she sat back down. "Ron's afraid to let her walk, and it's really getting on her nerves to be told to stay put when she feels she's well enough to do things. But when something gets into Ron's head, it stays there."

Harry grinned at the thought of Hermione spelling birds at a persistent Ron when he told her not to get up. It was a comforting thought that Ron and Hermione still cared about him, even though they have their own little family to look after. They hadn't forgotten about him just yet, and he was inclined to

think that they never will. Their adventures when they were children would stick with them forever, especially as they'd saved each others lives countless times during those adventures.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of a stiff knock on the door, and he looked up to see a Healer stroll in with a small folder in her hands. It looked deceptively thin to their eyes, but Harry knew from the countless times he'd had to research someone's medical history that it was only spelled that way. His own was incredibly thick; a rolling history of cuts, burns, bruises, broken bones, spell damage, and even his short death at Voldemort's hands. From the look on the Healer's face, he knew that the woman was pondering just how a man of twenty-three years could have such a history like it.

Harry sometimes thought about that himself.

The Healer offered the both of them a brief smile as she came to stand by the foot of Harry's bed, and closed the medical history folder with a quiet snap. "Mr Potter, my name is Healer Strout," she said in that professionally aloof voice, absently tipping her head in a nod to Ginny by way of greeting. "By way of rank and proficiency in St Mungos, I'll be your Healer for the duration of your stay here. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to just cast a diagnosis charm on you - just a common spell used by we Healers, Mr Potter, not to worry," she assured him, as if sensing he was about to burst out in complaints and paranoia befitting a seasoned Auror as himself.

Reluctantly, Harry nodded, and readied himself on the bed for the Healer to do her stuff. What he wasn't ready for, as she cast the spell she'd been working for many years, was the blinding pain that rocketed throughout his body that made his spine snap forward and his head fly back. His breathing became labored, his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he began shuddering and jerking crazily on the bed, odd, strangled noises slipping past his slack lips.

"Harry!" Ginny shrieked in shock and terror, jumping to her feet and stepping forward as if to help him, and then stuttering to an uncertain halt at his side. She hastily turned to the frozen Healer. "What's happening to him? What have you done to him?!" She cried.

Suddenly, Healer Strout came back to herself and snapped out of the daze she'd been in. She snapped her wand to the door and a blue ball erupted from the tip, flying through the door as if it wasn't there. "He's seizing!" She informed her frantically, as the door was shoved open and two tall Healers rushed in with emergency kits at their sides. "Stay back and let us handle it, we don't need him accidentally setting you alight in his panic. We won't be able to save either of you if that happens!"

"Hold him down!" One of the Healers snapped, and fumbled around in his bag for a potion while the other Healer rushed to pin Harry down by his shoulders.

A sharp choking noise sounded just as the Healer's hands made contact with Harry's back, and Healer Strout gasped as bile streamed out of Harry's mouth in a torrent of yellow and splashed onto the bed. The Healer threw himself backwards immediately, hands upraised in horror and pain as they came away with bits of his skin smoking in places and blistering in others. Harry continued jerking about with even more fervor, the whites of his eyes fluttering just under his eyelids.

_"Anapneo!"_ Healer Strout cast, flicking her wand at Harry's mouth. While he wasn't laying on his back and choking on his vomit, it was still a danger for him to accidentally breathe it in. It was one of the worst experiences in her long history of helping the damaged.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Ron shouted from the doorway, face pale and forcing the freckles there to stick out like dots on a sheet of parchment. His hand gripped at the door frame tightly, knuckles turning white in horror as he watched the three Healers battle with getting Harry out of his seizure.

"Ron!" Ginny cried desperately, rushing to her brothers side. "Harry's seizing, and they don't know why! He was fine just a second ago, and then that Healer," she spat, turning to glare at Healer Strout's back. "Cast a bloody spell on him! She said it was a diagnosis spell, but I'm not so sure now."

"Don't touch him!" Healer Strout barked, and threw up a shielding charm just as the uninjured Healer tried to touch Harry's arm. "He'll only burn you. We can't do anything but let this run its course!"

"I was touching him just before and he didn't burn me!" Ginny exclaimed, glowering at the Healer with dark eyes. "It must be something to do with that bloody spell you cast! I knew it, it wasn't bloody normal!"

"Just give him a bloody potion!" Ron snapped at the two exhausted Healers, glaring heatedly as they tended to their own wounds.

"We can't, not while he's sicking up all over the place, it'll only come back out with his stomach contents!" The injured Healer said adamantly, shaking his head. "We have to wait until he stops seizing, or we'll only injure him more in trying to get him to ingest it!"

"So spell it into him and he'll stop bloody seizing!" Ron roared.

"Get out of here if you're not going to help!" Healer Strout shrieked, pointing her wand hand at the door with a quiver.

"It not like you're helping him either!" Ron yelled back at her, before firmly planting his feet into the linoleum floor and slipping his wand from his wrist holster, just in case the Healer decided to use magic to throw him out. "I'm his best mate, he'd want me here for him if something went wrong! Now what the bleedin' hell have you been doing to him?!"

Healer Strout just blinked, before turning to focus on Harry, who was still unconscious, but was slowly turning limp and twitching as the seizure finally began to grind to a stop. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I believe his magic reacted to a foreign spell being cast on him so soon after he was attacked, and it rejected my own magic. It could be a delayed reaction - most likely his magic compensating for not fully protecting him before, but we can't be sure without further testing," she told them, lips pulling down at the corners rather deeply. "This sort of thing has happened before, but not quite like this."

"Why would his magic reject you when you were just diagnosing him?" Ron questioned disbelievingly, arms knotting over his chest with an intimidating scowl. "Or were you not diagnosing him?"

"It was a standard diagnosing charm used by all Healers when their patient comes in!" Healer Strout snapped, flushing a dark, furious red. "If you don't believe me, ask Miss Weasley, she was there to witness the spell I used."

"Ginny?" Ron prompted without looking at his sister, still glaring daggers at an equally pissed Healer Strout.

Ginny frowned up at him in annoyance, eyebrows furrowing, but after a moment she reluctantly nodded. "It's true, Ron. It really was only a diagnosing charm, nothing unlike the ones you and Harry get at the Ministry each month."

"Then why did Harry react like that? He's never had a seizure before in his life!" Ron yelled, scowl deepening.

"I don’t think we've ever had something like this happen to one of our patients before," said Healer Strout slowly, eyeing Harry's lax form with a close and careful eye that prickled the back of Ron's neck uncomfortably. "From what I can gather from the diagnosis here, his wounds have yet to be healed - an anomaly in itself, as Mr Potter's incredible magical core would have taken care of any injuries he attained in the attack. According to what Aurors say, he was hit simultaneously with two Unforgiveables - the Cruciatus curse, if I'm to believe the masses, a Bombarda, and a Protego. A volatile mixture, if Mr Potter's state is to say.

"The force of the spells combined were enough to create a magical backlash that threw Mr Potter many feet away into a wall due to an explosion, of sorts, and to knock the attacking Death Eaters unconscious for Aurors to pick up. It seems the wounds he attained were not enough to awaken his magic, and it has built up to such a degree that any spell cast on him right at this second will most likely trigger an unexpected result of some kind."

"So, what, you're just going to leave him like that?" Ron growled, glaring steak knives at the three Healers assembled before him. His wand spewed red sparks onto the floor. "He could die from this - he could get brain damage if he seizes too long!"

"I wouldn't dare to try to heal his wounds with a healing spell, Mr Weasley," Healer Strout said calmly. "Seeing how Mr Potter reacts to being touched and having magic used on him, it would only cause him further pain - pain that is useless to us, and unfortunate for him. Perhaps with time he will mend."

"With time?!" Ron barked out incredulously, shocked enough to stumble back a few steps. The Healers watched him warily. "He's still dealing with repercussions from the bloody war, and you're saying that with time he'll get over it?!" He snapped. More red sparks flew from his wand, but now they nearly reached Healer Strout's feet, and the Healer cautiously backed up a few steps.

"Sir, please remain calm," said one of the other Healers warily.

"Oh, I'll calm down," said Ron in an unnaturally calm voice, and instinctively, Ginny cringed beside him. "I'll calm down when Harry get the help he needs, which you bleedin' tossers are not giving him!" He snarled, pointing his wand at the Healers angrily.

"Have you not been listening to a single word I've said? We have no fucking idea how to heal him - especially if we can't touch him or use our magic on him!" Healer Strout shrieked, so very clearly cross with an equally pissed off Ron.

"Then why don’t you find someone who can!" Ron roared.

"What is all this ruckus?" A voice boomed from the doorway.

"Head Healer Tepish, sir!" Healer Strout gasped out, before hurrying to bow her graying head at her superior when he strolled in cautiously, wise brown eyes taking in the scene with interest. "I'm so very sorry for the disturbance, sir, but I was telling Mr Weasley that there was no way we can heal Mr Potter without causing him more pain than he's already in."

"What is Mr Potter's diagnosis?" Healer Tepish asked curiously, gently taking the Medical history folder from Healer Strout's lax hands and flipping through it.

"Well, sir, I tried casting a diagnosis charm on him, but it caused him to seize," Healer Strout informed him quietly, somewhat distressed. "And when we tried to hold him down, his magic burned one of the Healer's hands. We can't touch him and we can't perform any healing spells to clean and dress the wounds."

The Head Healer cautiously sat himself beside Harry's cot, transfiguring himself a chair to sit comfortably in, and pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. He turned to the uninjured Healer with his kind brown eyes glimmering in the harsh light. "The Muggle doctoring kit should be in the supply cupboard down the hall, please go and get it for me," he said, and then turned back to observe Harry with keen eyes as the Healer ran out of the room.

"I am Head Healer Angonov Tepish. Angonov Tepish the third, if you wished to know," said Healer Tepish, a small intense smile adorning his weathered and wrinkled face, still staring down at Harry even as he directed his voice to the other occupants in the room. "Now, as Healer Strout previously explained, there is nothing we can do for Mr Potter magically. Any use of magic or touch on his person will result in seizures, evidently, and an overabundance of seizures can lead to further complications and injuries, such as brain damage. Seeing as we cannot use magic to clean and dress the wounds, there is but one other option to utilize, such as the use of Muggle Medical equipment. As long as we do not have skin to skin contact, or cast a spell on him, this should all go by smoothly."

"But - do you know why this is happening to him?" Ginny asked fearfully, hoping that Harry was not dying. "He's not dying?"

"Well, I haven't much experience with victims of the Cruciatus curse that still have their minds intact, but suffer from seizures when touched or bespelled, so I cannot say without further testing. However, I

believe him magically extraordinary, and therefore with a good chance at surviving this episode," Healer Tepish replied, shaking his balding head.

The Healer that was sent to get the Muggle kit rolled into the room then with a steel cart containing a full set of stainless steel tweezers and a curious looking healing balm that looked much too thick for wounds such as the ones on Harry's back. Head Healer Tepish nodded his head in thanks and picked up a set of tweezers, although, once he was positioned over Harry's back, he paused in contemplation of how to go on.

"Er, Healer Tepish? I was able to touch Harry before and he didn’t burn me, nor did he seize up," Ginny informed him timidly. "And I have some experience with getting glass and splinters out of others bodies. I can do it, if you like?"

"How very strange," Healer Tepish murmured, before shaking his head. "No, Miss Weasley, I believe I shall remove the debris, as he is my patient and you are a mere visitor. A Healer's code of conduct prohibits such a thing," he said, and then leaned over Harry's back with the tweezer poised in his hand, and methodically pulled shards of glass and spikes of wood one by one from Harry's slightly blistered back. They fell with little clinks into the metal bowl Healer Strout helpfully held out to him, until there was none left for him to extract. He sighed and sat back. "Pass me the healing salve and the bandages, will you, Helena?"

Healer Strout grabbed the salve and the rolls of gauze from the cart and handed them to Healer Tepish immediately, taking up one of the tweezers and the bowl of debris and glass on the way back to clear space. She looked very relieved to have not been asked to tend to Harry's wounds, and it could only be because she'd already felt the horror one felt at causing someone undue pain. She was a Healer, not a Death Eater.

"Since I cannot touch him, I believe we may stretch the rules just this once, Miss Weasley. Will you do this?" asked Healer Tepish kindly, holding out the salve with a small smile. Ginny regarded him silently with questioning eyes, hesitating to move. "Just gently apply the healing salve to his wounds, then wrap his back with these bandages," he said.

Reluctantly, Ginny nodded and positioned herself beside Healer Tepish, shaking hands carefully taking a dollop of salve and gently spreading it all over Harry's back. Inwardly, she marveled at how his back felt so smooth and riddled with firm muscles, even when he was so injured and carved up with cuts. But outwardly, so as not to disturb others with her delight, she was emotionless and methodical in spreading the paste and slowly wrapping his torso in the bandages that smelt all too much like cleaning products.

"Very good," Healer Tepish praised her, smiling as she made sure the bandages weren't too tight or too loose, and stepped back for him to observe her skills. "I can see you've had many experiences with bandaging and cleaning wounds, it certainly shows in the way you tend to how constricting it is for the patient. I do hope you think about joining St Mungos, m'dear. We would be delighted to have you!"

Ginny flushed a bright pink. "Harry's the one with the healing touch, I just know how to take care of the aftermath," she muttered shyly.

"Well he certainly is lucky to have you for a partner, my girl! A healing duo, how utterly lovely!" said Healer Tepish brightly. Ginny preened at that, looking tempted to reach out and grab hold of Harry's hand.

"Harry and Ginny aren't together," said Ron immediately, and forced himself to ignore the steely glare of his little sister as he stepped closer to his mate's side. "They broke up years ago. They're friends at the most," he said pointedly, giving his sister a sharp look.

"There's still a possibility that we're getting back together," said Ginny in answer, tossing her long fiery hair over her shoulder. "We've been talking about it."

"No, you've been hinting at it," snapped Ron, annoyed. "Harry doesn't like you like that, Gin. He never has. You're like a little sister to him."

"Well he's not like a brother to me!" snapped Ginny, and then she did take Harry's hand in her own, ignoring how it didn't wrap around hers like hers did his. He'd already held her hand today. "I love him, and I know that somewhere deep down, he still loves me. He's just stuck into his work all the time because he's the Light Lord, he can't be expected to just let everything drop and do anything he wants. If he had time, he would've been at my doorstep straight away, asking for me!"

"If he wanted you back, he would've said something years ago! Let it bloody go, Ginny!" Ron yelled, shaking his head exasperatedly at his sister. He looked at the Healers in the room and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, this isn't the place or time for this. I know what he's thinking, because if he really wanted to get back with you, he would've told me ages ago. Now can we drop this? There're more pressing matters than your bleedin' love life!"

"Fine," said Ginny in a frosty voice. "But as soon as -- FUCK!" she screamed, flinging Harry's hand from hers as the most vicious fire clamped down on her entire hand and gnawed it to what felt like the bone. She sobbed wretchedly as she looked at her hand, watching as before her very eyes, blisters began to rise on her reddened and bloodied skin.

And then she noticed that Harry was yet again seizing, although it seemed to be only a minor episode. But then she realized something very, very important.

Her touch had made him react in as much the same way as the other Healer, but only after a few delayed minutes.

What was happening to him?


End file.
